The First Step to Healing
by Ichimarugyrl24
Summary: Oishi has a hard time dealing with his teenaged self thanks to his sprained wrist. So who better to show up and help him than his doubles partner? Golden Pair.


New Golden Pair sweetness! Gods, I just love these two! And yes, this is supposed to take place in the time when Oishi's wrist is sprained, so he has to rely (reluctantly at first) on Eiji to make him feel better. I think it's such a cute concept, and it was all originally inspired by an animated gif I saw on tumblr. So I hope you all enjoy! And please give me your feedback when you're done!

Summary: Oishi has a hard time dealing with his teenaged self thanks to his sprained wrist. So who better to show up and help him than his doubles partner?

Pairing: Golden Pair

Rating: M—Half-attempted masturbation, and a hot handjob.

Disclaimer: Sadly, this does not happen in the Tenisu no Ouji-sama series. And it certainly _would _if I owned it.

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The First Step to Healing

Oneshot

* * *

Oishi sighed as he stared down at his injured hand—it was just _torture. _

How was he supposed to survive _another_ two weeks without it? How was he supposed to… _relieve _some of his more troublesome urges when he had no hand to use? How was he supposed to walk around school every day when he had a problem in his pants that no one should _ever_ see?

He had already tried—and failed—it out with his left hand. But he just couldn't make it move how he wanted. Not like he could with his right—his dominant hand.

An Eiji-inspired whine slipped through his lips as he flopped back against his bed. Masturbation had never seemed as important as it was then. Before his injury, he had been able to take care of himself whenever he needed (though it wasn't all that often). But two weeks without any kind of release _hurt _a lot more than he thought it would. And he blamed it all on the teenage hormones.

It just wouldn't _go away_. No matter what he thought about; no matter how cold the showers were; no matter how much he mentally screamed at himself to calm down. The arousal, pain,_ and _embarrassment were still there.

He shifted to get more comfortable—a difficult feat in his predicament—and released a low groan when his jeans squeezed him just a _little_ too tight around the crotch. His left hand angrily yanked down on the rough fabric, to give him enough space for his "issue" again, but he only succeeded in grazing that _one _spot he needed to avoid the most.

His body jerked up at the touch, and he felt as if he would burst into a million pieces. The pressure was just too much; he needed release. But how would he get it?

He had the faintest urge to just find a big pillow and rub against it until he was spent. But that would require him to use his hands as support, and well, one of them was still out of commission—the whole reason he was in that _frustrating_ situation to begin with. And how would he explain a giant_ come _stain to his mother the next time she did the laundry? No, a pillow was definitely _not_ the way to go.

His hand wandered downwards again, but before he could even get a grip on himself, his hips impatiently thrust out to meet him. He squeezed the bed blankets tightly and moaned; if _only_ he could get off that easily.

Oh, how he wished Eiji was with him—to help him with his ache until his hand was healed again.

But he knew that kind of thinking was selfish. Eiji didn't go around giving out sexual favors just because they were dating. Oishi's problems were Oishi's problems; he needed to be able to solve them on his own, even _when_ he had a beautiful, _flexible_, loving redhead by his side. Their relationship wasn't solely based on sex—if anything, that was what it was _least _about.

He and Eiji were together because they were perfect that way. Even _off_ the courts, they always had their synchronization in affect. They always knew what the other was thinking; they always knew when something was wrong; they always knew the solution to the problem; they always knew what to say to make everything right again. He knew, in all confidence, that Eiji was his other half.

His completely_ opposite _other half.

But maybe that was why they fit so well. He had always been quieter, shyer, more worrisome, whereas Eiji was more boisterous, outgoing, and carefree (and adorable in every way). They complimented each other through their contrasts. What he was, Eiji wasn't. What Eiji was, _he _wasn't. And they only became a whole person when they were together. The puzzle was complete when their pieces fell in beside each other, and twisted around with the rest.

And he would _never _ask Eiji to have sex with him. If the time was right, and they both agreed to it, then that would be fine. But even so, he could die perfectly happy knowing that Eiji loved him for who he was, not what he was like in bed. If he passed away a virgin, then he had no qualms about it—as long as Eiji was the one beside him in his grave.

A sharp pain shot up his wrist as he twisted his injured hand further into the sheets. He wanted to stop—really he did—but it was more than he could bear. Of course it would take longer for him to heal, and it would be a lot more painful than usual, but at least he would be able to walk properly again, and focus more on his homework and dates with Eiji.

So he switched sides. His right hand was the only one that knew how to move, how to squeeze and pull, how to get him to climax. And it really sucked not being ambidextrous when it came to masturbation—one trait few men seemed to have problems with. In fact, they liked it. It gave one hand a break while the other did the work. And it certainly helped when a_ dominant hand was_ _injured_. But unfortunately, Oishi Syuuichiro was _strictly_ one-handed, no matter the circumstance.

His hands unbuttoned his jeans and forced them down a little. Then he was feeling out his erection through his briefs; it was so _hard. _He never knew his arousal level could grow to be _so_ intense. It almost felt like it wasn't even his body, because everything he touched was just so different—so swollen and sensitive. He wondered if Eiji ever had the same problem.

His bandaged hand slid down until his fingers were playing with his balls. They probably hurt more than anything else. After all, everything he was holding in was stored in there—two weeks' worth. He shuddered at the thought. Things were about to get _really_ messy.

Deep green eyes squeezed shut as he slipped his fingertips under the waistband of his underwear and felt out his tip. It was leaking _a lot_. Good—no need for lube then (if he got off as quickly as he thought he would, anyways). So he dug a nail into the slit and wiggled it around a little until his body convulsed in painful pleasure. He was _not _a masochist by any means, but an adequate amount of discomfort was not always a bad thing to have.

He repeated the action and felt his hips reflexively thrust out, forcing his wrist to snap back. Tears sprang to his eyes when the throbbing pain overwhelmed the burning pleasure, but even _then_ he was twitching with want. His hormones would just _not _give in, even when he was on the verge of crying.

Once the pain had dulled, he bit at his lip and tried again. His fingers brushed over the wet head, then down along the veiny length, before coming to rest at his balls again. He squeezed them gently, stroked them, then rolled them around against his thigh until he was breathing heavily into his pillow, feeling more turned-on than before (if that was even possible).

His uninjured hand was over his mouth, trying to hide all the erotic sounds he was making. Honestly, sometimes he felt like a girl. Boys weren't supposed to be so vocal in bed, right? And yet he was moaning and panting as if he was being pounded into the mattress like some slut. But it was almost expected when he had had to go _two_ _weeks _without any kind of sexual stimulation—and as a teenage boy, no less.

He sought out his head again, and began to rub a finger along the backside where it met with the rest of his length. That was the most sensitive part (on him, at least). He always played with it when he had the patience to do something other than climax. And with an injured hand stopping him from beating himself as hard as he could, he felt it was only appropriate to tease himself with the sweet and torturous pleasure that came with his susceptibility.

He could feel the heat swelling inside his lower abdomen, but he knew it wasn't enough. He had to have himself inside something (i.e. his hand) in order to build the friction that would bring him to his most-needed end. He wasn't as sensitive as someone like Eiji, who had claimed—quite _proudly_ in front of half of their team (it was really only meant for Fuji, but the redhead had always been a little too loud)—that he could come just by playing with his tip. And Fuji said he could do it with just his prostate and a good-sized toy to stimulate it with (_his_ announcement was_ meant_ to be heard by everyone).

But Oishi was just not the same. He had a lot harder time with himself, even when he was about to explode—like he was at that exact moment. It still took him a long time to finish, and he had to have fast and hard stimulation if he even wanted to _near _climax.

Maybe it had something to do with the way the other two looked. Fuji was angelic and feminine (also kind of perverted, if one looked at his eyes in a certain light), so it was almost _no_ surprise that he could get himself to ejaculate just by having something in him. That was how girls came, right? Or did they have something extra to touch too? He didn't really know. He had never paid much attention to that part of health class (shockingly), because he found that he was just a_ little_ scared of the female anatomic formation—which was another good reason he had Eiji with him instead; their bodies were exactly alike.

And although he didn't look as much like a girl as Fuji did, Eiji was still as soft, as delicate, and as beautiful as one. His skin was just so perfect—_flawless_. Not a mole or freckle or pimple was to be found on him. And it always felt so _smooth_ whenever Oishi brushed his fingers against his cheek, or grabbed at his hand, or tickled his soft sides. He was small and skinny, too, which came as a shock since he lived and breathed tennis (and gymnastics). How did someone so sports-oriented possess such a feminine body? Just like Fuji. What did they do to keep it that way, when they were constantly working their muscles to the brink?

And his sensitivity—he could _come _just from brushing his fingers over his head? That was _hot—really hot_. Oishi would be _more _than interested in watching (or participating in) that, if he ever had the chance. To know he could get his boyfriend off with little more than a few soft touches made him shiver in arousal (even _more _arousal). And it was becoming _far _too much for him to keep up with. He needed to focus his mind on something else.

Like the ache in his hand. It was growing more noticeable again, shoving any kind of sweet pleasure right out the window, though it did nothing to deter his erection. He knew he had to stop soon. His wrist would _never _heal if he kept going until climax. But it was just too big of a tease for him to play with himself, and then quit in the middle of it. That would only make things worse for him.

He moved his hand out from his briefs, and let it rest beside him as his other one went to work pulling his jeans down and off of his legs. He threw them in a random direction—and faintly heard them land against his wood floor—before his focus was back on his raging arousal, twitching in anticipation against his stomach.

It looked a lot bigger than usual, he had to vainly admit. It peeked out from under his briefs, curved off to the left (from his point of view) a little, and was just under five inches. And for a fourteen year-old boy, that was pretty impressive. But compared to the others at school, he always felt a little insecure—especially around someone like Taka-san. He had to be at _least _seven. It was no wonder Fuji had become so infatuated with him.

He breathed out slowly, through his mouth, as he prepared for the inevitable pain ahead. But he didn't even have the chance to touch himself before someone was knocking at his door.

"Nii-san," he heard his little sister shout to him from the hall, "are you there?"

He took another deep breath to steady his voice before, "Hai, what is it?"

"Kikumaru-san is here to see you," she said. "Should I tell him to come up here?"

He sighed as his head collapsed back against the bed. Eiji just _had _to show up then, didn't he? Right when his boyfriend was in the middle of masturbating—or at least _struggling_ to. Because the only thing he had _really_ done was make himself more hot-and-bothered than ever before. And he would have to suffer through that once he let Eiji in to see him, especially when he knew those soft and wonderful hands would be right there for him to look at. He whined (like his boyfriend again). If _only _he had the guts to ask Eiji to jerk him off.

"Nii-san, are you okay?" his sister asked worriedly. "Do you want me to ask Kikumaru-san to leave?"

"Iie," he called back as he slowly, _reluctantly_, sat up in the bed and adjusted himself within his briefs, "tell him to come up. The door is unlocked."

"Hai," she replied, before he heard her run off downstairs.

He fell forward until his head nearly touched his legs. How was he going to face Eiji in such a state? How would he be able to hold himself back when he had the most beautiful creature sitting across from him, touching him, maybe even_ kissing_ him? What would Eiji say if he found out his own boyfriend was sporting a three hour hard-on because he only had one hand to use and it was "out of order"? Would he laugh? Would he be sympathetic? It was hard to tell—sometimes he was just so unpredictable. Oishi really had _no _clue as to what kind of outcome his erectile problem would create for them.

He heard another knock suddenly, and he had to scramble off the bed to grab his discarded jeans. But his wrist kept him from slipping _either _of his legs in, and so he turned to find Eiji standing in his doorway, a hand over his cute mouth.

"Oishi, you baka," he gasped out in between giggles. "You should have just told me you were changing before I opened the door. That way you wouldn't be standing there like a fool with one foot halfway in the wrong leg of your jeans."

Oishi looked down, and lo-and-behold, Eiji was right. His left foot was stepped into the right side of his jeans, which were turned around the wrong way. He mentally slapped himself for his stupidity, but only had the courage to flash a sheepish smile on the outside.

"It seems I'm a little out of it today, Eiji," he replied.

"You got _that _right," the redhead nodded once his laughs had died down. "You were so distracted during our phone call earlier, I almost thought you were with someone else."

He put a hand over his clothed crotch and smiled cutely. "Doing dirty stuff, _you_ know."

Oishi turned red and resisted the urge to look down at his troublesome bottom half. "Eiji, that's silly," he mumbled, "I only like you."

The redhead shrugged and jumped backwards onto the recently vacated bed. "I know, nya. But I just wanna talk about naughty things with you. It's fun watching you get all flustered and stuff."

"Did Fuji influence you to do so," he asked as he abandoned his jeans for a clean pair of sweatpants—very _loose _sweatpants.

"Kinda, I guess."

Eiji turned to face him as he took a seat at his desk. There was no need to be too close now. Not when he had a highly noticeable problem going on in his pants. But that hand waving him over was just _far_ too tempting. So he gave in—against his better judgment—and sat down beside his adorable boyfriend on the mattress. And an arm immediately wrapped around his waist when he did—_great_.

"What kind of answer is 'I guess'," he asked quietly. His tone sounded a lot huskier than usual for some reason, and he _desperately_ hoped Eiji wouldn't notice it.

"Well, Fujiko-chan _did _teach me how to talk dirty," the redhead cocked his head to the side in thought—another wonderfully cute trait of his, "but I guess I just wanna do it to you because you're my boyfriend. We're supposed to talk like that to each other, ne?"

"Not necessarily," Oishi stated. "If we're not having sex, why would there be a need to?"

"So you _will _have sex with me," Eiji replied, not missing a beat.

He sighed. "Eiji, we already discussed this."

"And I still think it's dumb," Eiji pouted. "You're not gonna break me or anything, and I know I'm ready."

"But just how far do your feelings for me actually go, Eiji?" he asked. "I know you say you love me all the time, but that doesn't really mean you're _in _love with me—that you want to spend the rest of your life with me."

He quickly held a finger to the redhead's lips when he tried to adorably object. "And I know you say what you're feeling is a love that you've never experienced before, but you have to remember we're only fourteen. What we feel can be easily misinterpreted because of our hormones. So I told you we're waiting until we're at _least_ twenty to try to have sex with each other. That way we will know our _true_ feelings for each other."

"It almost sounds like you don't trust me," Eiji mumbled out into his shoulder. "Like you think I would lie to you about how I feel. Like I only want to be with you and then leave."

He kissed at the bright red hair tickling his chin, foolishly choosing not to answer the accusation directed at him. "Why do you want to have sex so bad, anyways?" he asked instead. "It's not the only thing our relationship is to you, is it?"

Eiji slapped his chest angrily. "Of course it's not, nya," he defended. "I'll love you no matter what. But sex is just… it…" he buried his face in Oishi's neck. "It can bring us so much closer to each other. It can make us feel like we truly _are _one person—one soul—in total synchronization. Sex means we can connect on a whole new level, because our bodies, not just our minds and our hearts, will be together, molded into one."

Oishi smiled. "You should write poetry, Eiji," he teased.

"Shut up," was the muffled reply. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"I know—I'm sorry."

The two of them fell silent; sex had always been a hard topic for them to discuss, but they never failed to end it the exact same way every time. Eiji would pout and whine and try to get them out of their clothes, while Oishi calmly and lovingly told him they had to wait until they were older.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Eiji's love for him—he was just nervous. How were they to know if they weren't experiencing some teenaged puppy-love instead of the real thing? And what if they _did _end up sleeping together? Would it be an amazing and heartfelt experience like they imagined? Or would it be a terrible disaster that could potentially tear them apart?

How could he_ possibly_ live without his other half to the Golden Pair? And how could Eiji survive without someone there to support him as well as his partner did?

"Ne, Oishi?"

He shivered when he felt that soft whisper tickle his neck. It was certainly a nice distraction from all of their previous awkwardness, and it most _certainly_ helped to stifle the tense silence. But it _really_ didn't help the throbbing between his legs—if anything, it made it _worse_.

"What," was his shaky reply; he _prayed _Eiji didn't catch it.

He audibly gulped when he felt the redhead pull his chin down so they could look at each other properly. Okay, so maybe he was more observant than Oishi gave him credit for, and that adorable tilt to his head certainly proved that he was curious about _something_. Had he only noticed the voice change though? Or was he going to ask why there was a giant bump in his sweatpants? Or maybe he had figured out both?

Eiji playfully licked his lips, never releasing his grip on his boyfriend's face. "Is something wrong, nya?" he asked.

"N-No," Oishi stuttered. "Why?"

Eiji smiled and pressed a soft finger to his boyfriend's lips. "Your voice sounds kinda funny," he whispered seductively. "Almost like you're—"

"I am _not_!"

Oishi groaned and slapped a hand over his mouth when he realized his mistake; he was utterly _ashamed_ of himself for reacting like that. But the words slipped out before he even had the chance to stop them. And they only helped to _prove _that there was something wrong with him.

And now Eiji knew that his little problem had to do with arousal—_great._

"So you _are_, Syuuichiro," he purred lowly, tracing his finger down Oishi's body until it pressed into a lump of hard flesh. "Want Kikumaru-sama to make it better for you? Hm?"

Oishi felt his heart pound loudly in his ears. It was almost surreal to think that Eiji was there before him, groping him through his pants, ready and willing to relieve him of his two week problem. It was a blessing for sure; but at the same time, it seemed like a curse.

"E-Eiji," he groaned out hoarsely; those devious little fingers felt so _good_. "S-stop. I'm fine… We can't—"

"Hush," the redhead breathed into his flushed ear. "I won't try to have sex with you. I'm only gonna get you off. Stop worrying so much, nya. Enjoy it."

His head fell back against his pillow when he felt Eiji's tongue slide along the length of his neck. And that _hand_; it was squeezing and pulling him in _all _the ways he liked. How did Eiji know him so _well_ when it came to jerking-off? They had never done anything like it before—together anyways—and yet the redhead was practically a professional when it came to touching him that way.

"Is this because of your sprain," Eiji panted out against his sweaty collarbone as the hand picked up its pace. "You could have said something, you know. I would have helped. I'm your boyfriend, after all. It's my job to make sure you feel good—to make sure you don't suffer like you have for the past few weeks."

Oishi barely heard a word the redhead was saying; he was too busy seeing stars. It just felt so _incredible_. Was this how it was going to be _whenever _Eiji touched him? Would it only get better with time, and practice, and actual _intercourse_? What did his mouth, his _tongue_, feel like? What could his fingers do when they weren't in a rush to finish him off? What did his special place feel like? Was it hot and tight like Eiji described? Would it make him come harder than he ever had before? Would it make him come _faster_—make him more sensitive?

He groaned and arched his back; Eiji was playing with his balls now._ Both_ of his _sweet_ hands were on his body—feeling him, playing with him, pleasuring him. Why, oh _why_ did he never let such a thing happen before? Eiji was perfectly okay with doing it; so he should have allowed it. He knew he needed to be more selfish sometimes. He _knew_ he needed to ask Eiji to help him when his body demanded it. That was the whole point of having a boyfriend—to have someone to support him and love him and do _amazing _things to him; things that had him _desperately_ searching for any kind of coherent thought.

"Do you like that," Eiji breathed out into his ear, seduction just _dripping _from his voice. "Do you want to come?"

He could only nod his head. _Yes_, of _course _he wanted to come. He wanted Eiji to milk every last ounce of lust and fluid and frustration and pleasure out of him until he collapsed in a tired and satisfied heap. And he wanted it to be that way even _after _his wrist was healed.

Screw masturbation—he had a wonderful redhead to get him off instead.

"Tell me when, nya. I want to make sure we don't make a mess."

Another half-hearted nod was given, and then he was squeezing his sheets. He was getting close—so _rapidly_ close. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears, the heat swelling in his lower stomach, the trembles and convulsions wracking his body. _Yes_, he wanted to come—so, _so_ bad.

His toes curled and his back left the mattress. _Almost, _almost—he was _almost_ there_. _Just a little bit more and—

Eiji stopped in his ministrations for just a quick second, and adjusted his hands to get a better grip. But Oishi still whined and thrust his hips up impatiently. Why did he have to stop his work _then_?

An amused snicker slipped from the redhead's lips. "Gomen," he mumbled, as his hands resumed their previous pace. "But I'm not gonna stop now. I promise. Go ahead and come when you're ready, ne."

Oishi gasped and felt his body tense up all over again. Eiji was such a tease, really he was, but his little pause just before the finale really made it seem ten times better. Everything seemed to build up so much hotter, faster, more intense. How he could _ever_ survive his impending orgasm, he didn't know. All he was sure of was the fact that it was a blinding pleasure he had no qualms about experiencing again.

"E-Eiji—Ei—"

He struggled to get that _wonderful_ name out of his mouth, to warn him of what was nearly upon them (literally maybe), but it was no use. His motor functions had ceased to work. The only thing he could do was lay there and take in all the sweet sensations that Eiji created for him—just for _him._

Finally, the heat reached its peaked. With a final cry of pleasure, he jerked up into the hands teasing him, and let his orgasm take over. Wave after wave of bliss washed, _crashed_, over him, suffocating him to the point of almost passing out. But his brain reminded him of the necessity to breathe just before his tunneled world went black.

He gulped in a few breaths of air; just as the last few spurts of come left him and splattered across his stomach. But the pleasure was nowhere _near _diminished, even when Eiji finally removed his hands and leaned down to kiss him on the lips—his body remained a satiated pile of mush for a long time afterwards. And he just couldn't stop _shaking_. It was almost scary in a way; but at the same time, _amazing._

"How was it," asked Eiji, with a rather triumphant smile (he knew how well it went), before he lay to rest beside his spent boyfriend. "Care to try it again sometime soon?"

"A-ah," Oishi _somehow_ managed to pant back in response, because his brain was still too fried to function properly.

A gentle kiss landed on his cheek, and Eiji hugged his chest tightly. "Next time it's my turn though, okay? I wanna see if Oishi is just as good at this as he thinks _I_ am."

Several minutes passed in comfortable silence. Neither wanted to break apart in order to clean up—it just felt so good to be that close, especially after something so wonderful—but they both knew they had to move soon. So when Oishi finally felt his body return to normal, he sat up to assess the damage.

Globs of come were seeping into the fabric of his shirt, and a few specks of it were even stuck to his chin. He gaped; usually it only _dribbled _out of him (and there wasn't very much of it either). But this time, he had been able to shoot his load all across his upper half. And even onto his headboard, as Eiji pointed out a few seconds after.

"Was it really _that _good, nya," he questioned with a cute tilt of his head. "Even _you _seem surprised by what happened."

Oishi nodded and unbuttoned his shirt. "I've never felt that good before, Eiji," he admitted. "Thank you."

The redhead wiped at his chin and smiled. "You're welcome, nya. I really tried my best, you know. I didn't want to disappoint you."

"You could _never _disappoint me, Eiji," he reasoned thoughtfully, "even if you _never_ got me to come."

It was in that next moment—when they were busy tidying up and getting comfortable again—that he suddenly noticed a white contrast to Eiji's red hair. He bit his lip to hold back his laughter as he reached out to remove the fluid from those bouncy locks. "You got some in your hair," he explained, wiping his hand on his shirt again. "You just _had_ to get in the line of fire, ne, Eiji?"

A blush spread across his boyfriend's face. "_I _got some in my hair?" he shouted. "It's _your _stuff, baka! How could it be _my _fault?"

His hands fiddled with his layered locks nervously. How could Oishi be so nonchalant about this kind of thing? Did he _know_ how long it took for the redhead to get his hair absolutely _perfect_ in the morning? And what would their _parents_ say if he were to walk downstairs, or home, with a glob of sticky white fluid in his hair—at the age of fourteen, no less?

But it was only a few seconds later that Oishi pulled his hands away, and placed them back in his lap. "It's fine, Eiji," he said, with a smile for extra reassurance. "I got all of it out. And don't worry. Your hair looks perfect—like you just finished up in the bathroom."

Eiji bit his lip to hold back his own little grin. Oishi was just _too_ good at charming him—at keeping him tamed. No one else held the power he did. And nobody could make the redhead swoon like he so _easily _did. He knew all the right things to say, and _when _to say them. It was no wonder he had such a big fan club at school; he probably charmed each and every one of those girls every time he opened his mouth. But there was only one he _truly _wished to hypnotize with his words: the boy beside him on his bed.

The one he had shared kisses with before; the one he claimed to love more than anyone else; the one who was most important to him; and the one who could give him one _hell _of a handjob.

"So…"

Oishi looked up from his lap and smiled. "Yes?"

"Your wrist won't be better for another couple of weeks, ne?"

"Correct."

"So… I was thinking maybe we could… if you want to… and if it starts to hurt again…"

The fukubuchou suddenly released a low chuckle. "What happened to the sensuous and confident Eiji from before?" he asked. "Why did you get all shy again?"

"Nya, I was just in the moment!" the redhead snapped back. "I wanted to make sure you felt better!"

Oishi felt a harsh slap make contact with his naked chest; his laughter died down _quickly_ when it did. "Okay, _okay_," he gasped out between shortened breaths. "I understand."

Eiji pouted and crossed his arms. "Meanie," he whined. "And you didn't even answer my question."

A gentle kiss was quick to land on his perfect lips, and he sighed out with _utter_ satisfaction. Oishi had always been a _really _good kisser. He always left him feeling lightheaded and dazed afterwards.

"Of course, Eiji," he replied when they pulled apart. "It sounds like fun. I want to see if you're as sensitive as you say you are."

"Then next time I can touch you _and _me," declared Eiji. "That way we can both feel good. And then you can make it up to me when your wrist gets better."

Oishi grunted his approval. "Okay," he said. "So when are you free to meet up again?"

—

He almost wished his wrist would _never _heal.

* * *

So how did you like it? Was Eiji an okay sex kitten? And would it only be fair of him to act so shy afterwards, even though he totally wants to do it again? If you have any comments, please review! I love your feedback!


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